


Improvisations

by TheMightyFlynn



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Hand Jobs, Implied/Referenced Blow Jobs, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-17
Updated: 2018-07-09
Packaged: 2019-03-20 06:42:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 2,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13712076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMightyFlynn/pseuds/TheMightyFlynn
Summary: Neither really knew how it started.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This will be a series (probably a short one) of prompts from [mixandmatch100](https://mixandmatch100.livejournal.com) on livejournal.  
> This one was "Madame Puddifoot's".

The sickly-sweet scent of sugary cookies filled Marcus’ senses as he passed Madame Puddifoot’s. His pulse kicked up a few notches and his hands clenched by his sides, but he continued on. Turning the corner as soon as he passed the pink-coloured café, he let out a breath.

“Took your time.”

Wood leant against the wooden slats of Madame Puddifoot’s, his arms crossed casually over his chest. Marcus grinned, despite the sweet scent still invading his senses.

“Did you want half the Quidditch team following me?”

“Oh, I dunno,” Wood mused. “Will having an audience make you perform better?”

“‘Better’?” Marcus advanced on Wood, making sure to keep eye contact. “How much _better_ do you want?”

Something flashed through Wood’s eyes. Hot and needy, it sent a jolt through Marcus’ chest.

This _thing_ they had had started mid-way through Marcus’ re-done seventh year. He hadn’t expected it; hadn't even wanted it at first. He’d resisted Wood with everything he had. But there had been nothing for it. Flicking his tongue out to wet his bottom lip, Marcus slammed a hand against the wooden slat wall of the café, trapping Wood in front of him.

Wordlessly, he fell to his knees.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based off the prompt: Decisive.

_I can’t get out of this. Sorry._

Marcus stared down at the crumpled scrap of paper in disbelief. Grabbing his quill, he clenched it in his hand for a few seconds before scribbling one word: _IMPROVISE!_

Fucking Wood. Fucking useless, worthless bastard. Scrunching the paper up again, Marcus glared at the back of Wood’s head before taking aim. It hit him with a soft thud. Glancing around, he grinned when he realised that old Sprout hadn’t noticed. He was still smiling when he returned his gaze to Wood. The sight of Wood glaring at him as he retrieved the piece of paper sent a jolt through Marcus’ stomach that went straight south.

He’d hated the idea that he had to repeat his seventh year. Not that he had plans for when he left, but sitting in Herbology passing notes with Oliver Wood was not how he had imagined his nineteenth year would play out. But then, he reconsidered, passing notes in class was acceptable when the notes were organising their next encounter. Being nineteen years old, Marcus found himself rather grateful for an outlet for all the sexual energy he seemed capable of producing. Especially when he was watching Wood flying in front of him dressed in those almost sinfully tight leather pants… Shifting uncomfortably, he adjusted himself in his trousers.

The next note landed on the desk in front of him and bounced into his chest. Glancing up, he checked to make sure he wasn’t being watched before opening it.

_Desperate, much?_

Marcus’ eyes narrowed.

_Fuck you_ , he scrawled before pelting Wood in the back of the head again.

_Exactly._

Marcus’ head began to swim as his blood drained downwards. He didn’t get to reply before a second piece of paper landed beside the first.

_Behind the Quidditch equipment shed. Lunch._

Slipping his free hand beneath the desk, he squeezed his cock, trying to give himself some form of relief. The very idea that he was going to be getting some in – he checked his watch – less than half an hour was enough to have him hard enough to wipe his mind clean of everything else. Rocking his hips forward, he looked up at see Wood watching him intently. His eyes were dark and intense, fixed directly on Marcus.

Sitting up straighter, Marcus gave a decisive nod. When Wood grinned, Marcus rolled his eyes. Twenty-five minutes. He could wait.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for the [mixandmatch100](https://mixandmatch100.livejournal.com) prompt: stress relief

Heated, sweat-slicked skin slid over Marcus’ own as he moved. His pace was frantic, having been made to wait so long. He knew he wasn’t going to last long.

“Enough of an… _improvisation_ for you… Wood?” he grunted as he moved.

Leaning back against the Quidditch equipment shed, his eyes closed and mouth open, Wood could only groan in response. Marcus grinned, tightening his grip around the cocks in his hand. A warm tingle began in the small of his back as he listened to Wood pant. He wanted to hold back; wanted this to last longer. Biting down on his bottom lip, he concentrated hard, trying to force himself to calm down.

“Don’t… don’t slow down…”

It was the first thing Wood had said since they had met after Herbology. Not that he generally couldn’t talk the ear off a deaf man, but he did tend to be silent during sex.

“I want… _fuck_ … need…” Thrusting his hips so his cock slid faster through Marcus’ hand, Wood groaned again. “Please.”

This had started as stress relief, Marcus knew. Watching Wood now, though – head thrown back, bitten lip red and swollen, and letting out obscene noises with each breath – something swirled through his chest. It was warm and tingly; something he had never felt before. Leaning forward, he squeezed the hand around both of their cocks, earning himself a sound like a whimper.

“Please…”

He jumped when Wood’s hand landed on his shoulder, pulling him closer. Now chest-to-chest, Marcus could see all kinds of details that he couldn’t before. Wood’s long eyelashes, for example. Or the way his Adam’s apple twitched as he breathed out yet another deep moan. He swallowed. The extra friction that the contact now created had his head swimming.

“I – I…”

It was as far as he got before the swirling heat in the small of his back tipped over. Closing his eyes, he thrust hard into his fist, his cock sliding smoothly against Wood’s. It felt almost like he had blacked out as he came, as he when reopened his eyes, he was leaning against Wood on the shed. Pushing against the wall caused his knees to give way, sending them both to the ground.

“God…” Wood stretched and let out a satisfied sound. “That was _good_.”

“‘Course it was,” Marcus responded automatically.

The warm sensation hadn’t left. Marcus blinked. He might be in trouble.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for the [mixandmatch100](https://mixandmatch100.livejournal.com) prompt: jubilant.

_It’s Slytherin with the Quaffle… Chaser Marcus Flint swerves around Chaser Bell and Chaser Johnson… Ducks under a Bludger… Keeper Wood dives towards him, but Flint scores! Slytherin are up eighty to twenty!_

Cheers went up all around the stands. Marcus rolled over, snorting in his sleep as dream-him celebrated his goal. The Slytherin stands roared their appreciation, jubilant as he circled the pitch with his arms raised. He could see their smiling faces and hear the jeers of the other Houses. It was _fantastic_ ; just what he needed after the day he’d been having. The wind swept his hair back from his face, blowing cold and fresh, so much lighter than the heat behind the Quidditch shed.

_What’s this? Keeper Wood has moved out of the goals, leaving them unprotected… Is this a new strategy they have come up with? Leave the goals open, then swoop in for the Bludger hit? No, this is… What is he…?_ What _is Wood doing? Is he_ kissing _Flint?! This is… Eww. Wrong; this is wrong._

Marcus jerked awake. Brilliant. He flopped back against his pillows. Even his dream self was obsessed with Wood. This was not a good start to the day.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based off the [MixandMatch100](https://mixandmatch100.livejournal.com) prompt 36: Cosy.

Marcus had tried to find the darkest, most hidden spot in the entire library to study. Well, ‘study’ might be stretching it a little. Slouched down in a chair with his back to the wall, it felt more like he was sulking. Placing his boot against the edge of the table, he pushed until his chair tilted backwards. Crossing his arms over his chest, he glowered at the people crowding the library.

His morning had not gone well. Having spent the early hours jerking himself raw after that ridiculous dream, he’d gone to breakfast in a foul mood. There’d been some kind of fucking drama with that Potter kid again, but Marcus had ignored it as best he could. He’d escaped to the library the second he had the chance. He was skipping out on Herbology, but that was all to the better. It was best if he saw as little of Wood as possible at that point.

That dream had really thrown him off. His mind had been racing the entire morning, trying to work out exactly what it meant that he was dreaming of Wood. There was an obvious answer, he knew. He wasn’t ready to face that explanation, however. He and Wood… He shook his head. This was just stress relief; a way to blow off some steam. There was nothing else to it. They hadn’t even fucked, for Merlin’s sake!

Maybe that was the problem? What if he gave in and fucked the bastard? Would that purge him of whatever feelings he was apparently developing, or would it just make it all worse? As focussed as he was on these questions, he missed the sound of footsteps approaching him until it was too late.

“Cosy little place you’ve found yourself, Flint.”

Marcus fell off the chair.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for the [mixandmatch100](https://mixandmatch100.livejournal.com) prompt 37: overwhelmed.

Scrambling to right himself, Marcus shot Wood a glare. “What the fuck are _you_ doing here?”

Standing at the end of the aisle Marcus’ table sat in, Wood’s shoulders shook with mirth. The sight of the amusement in Wood’s eyes sent Marcus’ insides fluttering as he made it to his knees. When Wood got himself under control, he shrugged.

“Improvising?”

“That’s really fucking funny, Wood,” Marcus grumbled. Reaching up to one of the shelves, he pulled himself to his feet. “What do you want?”

Marcus had a good couple of inches on Wood, height-wise. He was also broader across the shoulders, something he prided himself on. Not that Wood was a slouch when it came to physicality. As the start to Marcus’ day attested, there was absolutely nothing he could complain about when it came to Wood’s looks. Straightening to his full height, Marcus looked down on him. Wood met his eyes with no hesitation.

“What do either of us ever want?”

There was a challenging tone to Wood’s voice. That wasn’t what Marcus focussed on, though. Heat flashed through Wood’s eyes as his tongue flicked out to wet his lips. The effort it took for Marcus to take a step back took him by surprise. He had always assumed that he was in complete control over this… _thing_ they had started, but recent events seemed to have changed that. Clenching his hands by his sides, he took a deep breath.

“No.”

Shock crossed Wood’s face. “No?” He scoffed. “Since when do you not want to fu–”

“I _said_ no, Wood.”

Something strange jolted through Marcus when Wood rolled his eyes and shook his head. It caused his stomach to lurch, but he ignored it. Taking another few steps backwards, he focussed on keeping his breathing even. It seemed to be that action that caught Wood’s attention; made him believe that Marcus was telling the truth. His eyes narrowed in disbelief.

“You started this, Flint.”

“Yeah, I did.” Marcus’ arms crossed over his chest as the feeling that had jolted through him made an appearance again. It sent tingles down through his nerves, making them jump with tension. “And I can stop it just as easily.”

“‘Easily’? You think I’m easy, is that it?”

Marcus blinked. He hadn’t meant his words to be taken that way, but if Wood wanted to start an argument over a supposed insult, then he would take it. The feeling in his chest was spreading through him slowly, bringing a heat with it that was making him uncomfortable, to say the least. Rolling his shoulders, he curled his top lip as he stared down at Wood.

“I barely even had to touch you to have you nearly begging me for more.”

“What?” Wood took a step forwards, his eyebrows drawing down into a frown. “You’re dreaming, Flint.”

The mention of dreams caused Marcus’ stomach to lurch again, but he ignored it. The sensation spreading through him was definitely heating him up, sweat prickling over his top lip and brow. Perhaps he was coming down with something, he considered briefly before refocussing. He took a steadying breath before continuing the argument.

“‘It’s never been like that before,’” he mocked, his voice pitched high. “‘ _So_ good… Don’t stop…’ You’re like a fucking bitch in heat, Wood. Desperate and fucking gagging for it.”

Marcus would normally have seen the punch coming a mile away. With the way his insides were churning, however, Wood’s fist connected with his cheek before he even knew what was happening. Staggering backwards, he tripped over the chair he had fallen off a few minutes before. Wood was on top of him the second he hit the floor.

“You bastard.”

Wood grunted as he tried to connect with another couple of wild swings. Marcus raised his arms above his head to cover his face, trying to protect himself as best he could. It felt as though his right eye was going to explode. Wood had managed to connect directly with his cheekbone with that big left-hand swing, rattling Marcus’ teeth. Despite the pummelling he was currently suffering, though, the sensation was still rocking through him, more intense than ever.

“You _lying_ fucking bastard.” Wood slipped a leg between Marcus’ thighs. “You want this, Flint; admit it. You want _me_.”

With Wood on top of him, it was difficult to deny the truth. The sensation swirled through Marcus’ chest and spread downwards, hardening him in his jeans. He gasped as it overwhelmed him, sending his head spinning with pleasure. Reaching up when Wood took a break from assaulting him, Marcus grasped a handful of his hair and pulled him down. Crashing their lips together, he let out a groan. Because, damn it, no matter what he told himself, he _did_ want this; want Wood.


End file.
